People driving long-horned cattle along a mountain road. One individual mounted on a horse or donkey. The Sugarloaf Mountain is in the background.
Inscribed in Image
|Published / created||1839|
|Travel Account||Rambles in the South of Ireland|
|Print or manuscript|
|Location of image in copy||Vol. 1, frontispiece|
|Source copy||James Hardiman Library, National University of Ireland Galway Special Collections: 914.190481 CHA|
|Rights||James Hardiman Library|
Related text from travel account
|We proceeded to an island [Garinish] on which stands a martello tower, one of the expensive consequences of the French invasion in 1796, and which, if the wonders that steam has effected could be foreseen, would appear nearly ridiculous. The present tenant of the island, who pays to government £15 a year, belonged in 1796 to the revenue department, near Berehaven, and was one of the first to descry the approach of the French fleet, which had long been expected. […]
From the tower, there is a fine view of the [p. 47] Sugar-Loaf, and of its minor brother, of the noble bay, Whiddy Island, with the Bantry shore beyond; and nearer, Mrs. White's pretty place, Glengariff’s chief ornament.
The most striking as well as the most beautiful feature in this lovely bay is the Sugar-Loaf Mountain. The shape answers to its name, and it is seen from almost every part of the adjoining country. On the side next Bantry Bay, two furrows are visible about half-way up its high cone. Today, as we rowed over the smooth water, we observed the ridge of these furrows more plainly against the deep blue sky, and observed that the marks gradually wound downwards from the summit to the base, like the print of gigantic wheels.
The steersman heard our observations about this appearance;—"Sure yer honor's right entirely; sure enough 'tis the print of wheels that you see above there; and indeed, steep as it looks, a car has come down along there." We all smiled at the boatman's assertion; for, besides being not far short of two thousand feet above the level of the sea, the sides are so steep that it now can be only ascended on foot.—"Why, you may not believe it, if yer honor [p. 48] doesn't plaze, yet 'tis truth I'm telling ye; only 'tis a long time ago, and there's no one living to be sure that saw it, but many and many's the one that has heard all about it, and how it happened." [Vol. 1, p. 46-48]
[There follows the 'Legend of the Sugar-Loaf Mountain’, involving a beautiful fairy, a bad husband, and a talking crab].